CHAPTER 6 #2
"To what?" I slam him against the courtyard wall, my claws puncturing the stone on either side of his head. "Save her? From me? I'm the only thing keeping her safe, you ignorant fuck. I'm the only one who's ever cared about her. The only one who's ever loved her."
My claws are trembling. Not from exertion. From the need to tear, to rend, to destroy anything that threatens what's mine.
"You're insane," he whispers, blood trickling from his mouth where he bit his tongue.
"Maybe." I smile, and I know it's not a human expression anymore. It's all monster and madness. "But she's still mine. And you're still going to die."
I drag him to the center of the courtyard by his leg and throw him down. He tries to crawl away, his broken arm dragging uselessly, but I pin him with one clawed foot on his chest. The armor dents under my weight.
"Please," he begs. "Please, I have a family, a future… I—"
"I don't care." And I don't. I don't care about his family, his kingdom, his noble quest. All I care about is that he came here to take Adelaide from me. That he thought he had any right to her.
That he thought she was his to save.
I extend one claw and trace it along the seam of his breastplate, right over his heart. "You know what the problem is with you princes? You think you're entitled to her. You think because she's beautiful and cursed and locked away, that makes her yours for the taking. A prize to be won."
"That's not—"
"But she's not a prize." My claw digs in, and the metal begins to peel away like the skin of an orange. Slowly. So slowly. "She's a person. My person. Mine to protect. Mine to touch. Mine to fuck. Mine to love. MINE."
The word comes out as a roar with fingers of flame that singe his face, and I feel something in my chest crack open. Something dark and possessive and utterly consuming.
I peel the breastplate back, exposing the chainmail underneath. Then I start on that, my claws slicing through the links one by one. He's screaming now, begging, but the sound just fuels the rage.
"No one will take her from me," I murmur, almost conversational now as I work. "No one will touch her or harm her. No one will even look at her. She's mine. Do you understand? MINE."
The chainmail gives way, and now there's just the thin padding of his gambeson. I shred that too, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. He's sobbing now, trying to push my claws away with his good hand, but it's useless.
"I've killed so many of you," I continue, my voice eerily calm. "So many princes and knights and… heroes. And you know what? It keeps getting easier. More satisfying. Because every single one of you thinks you can take what doesn’t belong to. Every single one of you thinks you have a right to her."
I press my claw against his stomach, just above his navel. "But you don't. None of you do. She's MINE. My lover. My Adelaide."
Then I push.
The skin parts easily, and he screams. I drag my claw down, opening him from sternum to groin, and the smell of blood and viscera fills the air. It should disgust me. It used to disgust me.
Now it just feels… right.
"She's mine," I whisper, reaching into the cavity I've created. "Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine—"
My claws close around something slippery and warm.
His intestines. I pull, slowly, watching his face contort in agony as I draw them out.
They're longer than you'd think, coiled and glistening in the moonlight. I think he’s gone into shock. He’s breathing in quick bursts.
His eyes have blown wide. Definitely shock.
"No one takes what's mine," I say, and I shove them into his mouth. Push them down his throat.
He gags, tries to cough them out, but I hold them there. Hold them as he chokes. As his eyes bulge. As his good hand claws uselessly at my arm.
"Mine," I repeat, watching the light fade from his eyes. "She's mine. Forever. And anyone who tries to take her will end up just like you."
He stops struggling after a minute or two. Stops moving. His eyes stare sightlessly at the sky, his mouth and throat stuffed with his own intestines.
I should feel something. Remorse. Guilt. Horror at what I've become.
But all I feel is satisfaction. And the gnawing need to get back to Adelaide. To make sure she's still there. Still safe. Still mine.
I grab the corpse by the ankle and launch myself into the air turning into my full dragon form as I go. My wings beat hard, carrying us up and over the castle walls, over the thorns, toward the forest that borders my territory.
The trees are thick here, ancient oaks with branches strong enough to hold a body. I find a suitable spot visible from the road, impossible to miss, and I string him up. I use his own intestines as rope, weaving them through the branches, hanging him like a grotesque puppet.
A warning.
A promise.
This is what happens to anyone who tries to take what's mine.
I step back to admire my work, and something in my chest swells. Pride. Possession. Triumph.
I stretch my wings wide and roar. The sound echoes through the forest, through the valley, probably all the way to whatever kingdom this fool came from. Let them hear. Let them know.
Adelaide is mine. This castle is mine. Anyone who crosses these borders dies.
I take to the air again, soaring over the treetops. The wind feels good against my heated scales, cooling the rage that's been burning in my chest. But it doesn't extinguish it. Nothing extinguishes it anymore.
I need to make the world safer for her. That's the problem. The world is full of princes and knights and heroes who think they can take her. Who think they have a right to her.
What if I killed them all?
The thought comes unbidden, but once it's there, I can't shake it. What if I just... eliminated the threat? Burned every kingdom to ash. Slaughtered every man who might come for her. Made it so there was no one left to take her from me.
No. That's insane. Even I know that's insane.
But is it? Is it really so crazy to want to protect what's mine? To remove any possible threat?
I could create a barrier. Something magical, impenetrable. Seal off the castle so thoroughly that no one could ever reach it. Keep Adelaide safe inside forever, just the two of us, no one else.
But then she'd truly be a prisoner. And some part of me, some small, dying part, knows that's wrong.
What if I just... made an example? Killed enough of them that they stopped coming? Strung up enough bodies that the message was clear?
I'm already doing that. And they keep coming.
My wings falter slightly as the castle comes back into view. The rage is still there, simmering under my scales, but now there's something else too. Confusion. Desperation.
I don't know how to keep her safe. I don't know how to make the world safe enough for her. And the not knowing is driving me insane.
I land in the courtyard, my claws scraping against the blood-stained stones. The prince's broken sword still lies where it fell. I should clean this up. Should dispose of the evidence.
But what's the point? There will just be another prince tomorrow. Or the day after. There's always another prince.
I'm so tired.
The rage drains out of me all at once, leaving me hollow. Empty. Lost.
None of my ideas will work. Killing them all isn't feasible. A barrier would make her a prisoner. Making examples clearly isn't deterring anyone.
I don't know what to do.
I need to shower. Need to wash the blood off. Need to go back to Adelaide, hold her, and remember why I'm doing any of this.
I'll figure it out in the morning. I always figure it out.
I have to.
Because she's mine. Because she’s it for me. It’s always been Adelaide. It was always going to be her. And I’ll burn down the world for her.
Even if it destroys me in the process.